


The Inverse of Each Other

by totallytobedetermined



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, NoPixel
Genre: A Character Study of Bondy Bulith, Boys Being Boys, Criminal Bobby AU, Fluff, Just an excuse to write bondy in other timelines, M/M, Randall Leaving Crime AU, being in love, kinda smutty, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26376346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallytobedetermined/pseuds/totallytobedetermined
Summary: Two alternate universes centered around how Bobby and Randy come together:One where Bobby becomes Los Santos' most noble criminal and another where Randy gives up everything for love.
Relationships: Randy Bullet/Bobby Smith
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The Inverse of Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, long time, no post! I'm excited to have y'all read this pet project that came to me out of the blue. I decided to write an AU many months ago and then, after revisiting it in the last couple weeks, decided to write an inverse of that AU, smoosh them together and call it one fic! 
> 
> I hope that makes sense (and understand if it doesn't, cause I'm a moron on the best of days) and hope you like regardless!
> 
> Also, like everything else, this is only edited by me, so excuse any errors.
> 
> <3

**Get You Dancin’ with the Devil** **,**

Or

_How Bobby made a criminal fall in love with him, and Randy never saw it comin_ _g_ _._

It was supposed to be easy. 

A life full of simple fuck buddy arrangements, no strings attached. Randy was the king of this type of situation, he’d cornered the market if he’s being honest. 

Then, a blonde goody two shoes with a phenomenal ass walked into his life and he was fucked, absolutely demolished. He didn’t even know how screwed he was until it was too late. 

——

He met Bobby on the man’s first day in the city, smoking outside the Pink Cage. It felt wrong not to offer such a pretty, new face a ride, Randy hoped it segued into asking if the man wanted another type of ride. But then he requested to be dropped off at the police station. A little bit of probing and some regurgitated charm later, he learned that Bobby was the newest addition to the city’s police academy, and he forced every horny thought he’d been having to dry up. 

Randy was wildly irresponsible on the best of days, but he wasn’t fucking stupid. 

He drops a couple anecdotes about the shitty state of the police force and in turn receives an impassioned response about improving the lives of Los Santos’ citizens. Randy scoffs, but internally, he can’t help finding the soon to be police officer adorably genuine; that was a refreshing trait for someone in this town. 

Letting Bobby out at the station, he says goodbye to the perfect, pert ass walking away from him and becomes content that he’ll never see the man again, except in the event of some future arrest, and puts the whole infatuation to bed. 

He thinks that’s the end of it. 

It isn’t. 

——

One failed marriage and an ever growing rap sheet later, they reconvene. 

It starts with a drunken night at Bahama Mama’s, Randy out looking for a quick lay when he finds the Chief of Police drowning his sorrows at the bar, shrugging off man after man who tries to talk him up. He keeps his distance at first, just watching. He could maybe use this opportunity to his advantage, criminally, but decides against it when he catches the forlorn look spread across Bobby’s features, his reflection somber through the mirror behind the bar. He remembers the bright eyed man he drove to MRPD all those lifetimes ago and wonders what the fuck the world did to sully his pretty boy. 

Randy shakes off the lingering ache in his heart and the pull to comfort the older man, instead he puffs his chest out, going in for the kill. 

It doesn’t work out quite like he planned. Bobby mostly accosts and insults him, but they end up getting stupid drunk together. They stumble out of the bar at closing, Bobby struggling to call an Uber with Randy draped all over him, who’s trying desperately to convince the cop to let him drive and failing. 

They somehow make it to Randy’s apartment at Integrity in one piece and continue drinking until they fall into bed together. The criminal expected this encounter to be tawdry and feel like they were doing something forbidden, which they kind of were. But it didn’t; it felt easy and fun and fulfilling. Bobby fit against him perfectly, was the best reprieve to every overwhelming feeling coursing through him. Randy thanks god that he wasn’t drunk enough to forget the night even if his bed is empty when he wakes the next afternoon. 

He figures it’s a one-off memory he can cherish forever and will never get a repeat of.

For once, he’s glad he’s wrong. 

——

They both pretend like they’re not drawn to each other. It makes the moral implications for each man easier to swallow. 

But, their denial doesn’t explain how Randy ends up in Bobby’s bed at least three nights out of the week, or how the blonde has quickly secured a portion of Randy’s bathroom counter for his toothbrush and toiletries. 

It also doesn’t explain Randy’s sudden lack of hooking up with everything that moves. His boys point it out and he feigns about a renewed urge to focus on his work and buy some new import car that’s coming to the city in a few weeks. They mostly buy it, except for Ramee. That asshole knows him too well and Randy decides to ignore his pointed looks every time he rushes off to Bobby, leaving his crew behind. 

And it certainly doesn’t explain the way they constantly text, obsessing over their phones to the point of annoyance for the people around them. 

——

_bob babe_ : i swear to god if you try to rob the jewelry store right now, im not coming over tonight

_Randall_ : wtf not fair

_bob babe_ : im dead fucking serious

_Randall_ : ur mean :c

_bob babe_ : <3

_Randall_ : it’s stg, btw

_bob babe_ : what? is that supposed to be sergeant?

_Randall_ : no

_Randall_ : your first text

_Randall_ : it’s “i stg if you rob the jewelry store”

_Randall_ : not “i swear to god if you rob the jewelry store”

_Randall_ : boomer

_bob babe_ : leave me alone

_Randall_ : <3 <3 <3 c:

“Dude! What the fuck?! Are you in or out?” Ramee screeches, attempting to swat the phone out of Randy’s hands. The Brit looks utterly lost and sputters a bit, glancing around to the others. He pockets the phone quickly before answering,

“Uh, out. I’m gonna head to bed, boys! Have fun without me.” 

The excuse rolls off his tongue like he’s used to it, which he is. The rest of his crew bid their goodbyes, pile into their respective vehicles and head off from Integrity, except for Ramee. He leans back on his car and fixes his best friend with a steely glare, not saying what’s obviously on the tip of his tongue. Randy twitches a little and shrugs at him,

“What?”

“Don’t. You know what. Where’re you going?”

“Look man-” Randy starts, going to diffuse the situation but is interrupted before he can begin. “You know, if I can see through you, it’s only a matter of time before everyone else does too. I thought… I don’t know, man. I thought you learned your lesson with Violet,” Ramee admits, sounding more disappointed than anything, but it makes Randy’s blood boil. 

“Whatever,” he tries to dismiss, even though his jaw is clenched in anger, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I hope not! But it’s starting to look like you’re putting a piece of ass ahead of your boys. It’s just-... All this,” Ramee emphasizes by motioning to their chains, their shoes, the luxury car behind him, “It’s worth more than whatever they’re doing for your dick. Don’t be a _moron_ , Randy.”

Ramee doesn’t wait for a reply, not that Randy has one ready. He simply hops in his car and speeds off to meet up with their crew. Randy knows his friend is just looking out for him, trying to gently warn him against going down the same road he’s traveled before. But it’s unnecessary. 

He’s fine. He’s got this under control. 

——

Randy _is_ a fucking moron. 

That’s the only explanation for having the Chief of Police sprawled across his lap, sucking marks into the side of his neck, mere hours after Ramee’s warning. 

He’s a self indulgent idiot. Who lets him make decisions for himself?

“Randy, c’mon…,” Bobby whines against his skin, hips rocking back and forth, pushing their clothed hard ons together but not creating nearly enough friction. He wants so badly to be in this moment with the blonde, god knows he daydreams about the man enough. But he can’t, because he’s having a slight mental breakdown over the repercussions this could have for him. 

Bobby pulls back and gives him a discerning once over. Randy’s focus is split between his doom impending thoughts and the older man’s disheveled flannel all rucked up, hair untidy, cheeks dusted red. Letting out the sweetest sigh, Bobby leans forward, resting his forehead gently to Randy’s, eyes holding his gaze. Randy’s hands move from cradling the man’s hips to wrapping around his back, pulling him down and close, so that they’re chest to chest. 

His thoughts scream, _Too intimate, too soft, too much!_

But they disperse like steam as the blonde lightly presses his lips to his, not initiating a kiss, just letting their skin touch and breaths merge. Bobby looks through Randy like he’s daring the younger man to expel him from his tattooed arms, like he knows Randy won’t. The criminal doesn’t know why his eyes slip closed on him, maybe too wrapped up in the man on top of him, the weight of him in his arms. Maybe he can’t bear to look at Bobby as he pushes into a kiss, knowing his smitten eyes would have betrayed his long held title of emotionless douchebag. 

He wants to etch the sound of Bobby’s satisfied moan into his mind, so he can replay it over and over. Wants to hold him forever.

He also wants to erase the sound of his surprised gasp when Randy wretches himself away from the gentle embrace. He’s enamored by Bobby, but he’s still Randy Bullet and he can’t quite confront the feelings he’s having. So, he does what he does best and turns the situation into one that he’s more comfortable with. He flips him and Bobby, pinning the man to the couch they had just been lovingly kissing on and turns the encounter into a lewd power grab before a quick fuck. He restrains the cops hands above his head and pushes his shirt up to his armpits, leaving a trail of biting kisses across his torso, rough and sudden. It makes Bobby whimper, but it doesn’t sound as pretty as before. 

Randy squeezes his eyes shut and convinces himself he doesn’t care, that he just wants to get his dick wet. He’s always been good at lying to himself. 

But, he’s never been good at maintaining it for long. 

——

He should know there’s a problem around the time of their first sexless sleepover. 

Bobby comes over after a brutal shift, bruised and mentally exhausted. Randy hadn’t had the best day either, filled with tough negotiations and long, dull meetings with Vinny. 

They sat on his kitchen counters, bitching about their awful coworkers and the shit situations they found themselves in that day, stuffing their faces with three day old Chinese food Randy had left in his fridge. 

It’s nice, just being able to vent and be heard, then listen to tales of things that aren’t drug deals or the latest thermite run someone fucked up. 

They take a quick shower together that never gets past the point of passionate kisses and rubbing suds into each other’s skin that leads to impromptu massages for one another. He dresses Bobby in some of his pajamas. They hang loose on his smaller frame and make Randy want to cuddle the man to death. He resigns himself to kissing the top of his head and pinching his nipple through the thin shirt. 

Bobby throws on some terrible sitcom from the mid-2000’s and snuggles under Randy’s comforter, lifting the blanket when the brunette just stands there, beckoning him to the warmth. Randy had a very clear thought at that moment that this is where he should initiate sex and get things back on track. 

Instead, he climbs into bed with Bobby and drifts to sleep fairly easy with the sound of the older man’s heart beating under his ear. 

When he wakes up in the morning, Bobby’s gone. Not surprising, he most likely had work. But there’s a pot of coffee on, still hot, and a single post-it note sticking to it, three hearts drawn in a line, signed _xoxo b._

He ignores the jolt in his heart and tingling in his stomach. He also ignores the giant red flag that was their entire night together. 

——

The final nail in the coffin comes on a warm summer night in the middle of the desert. 

Randy’s lying spent in bed and playing with light blonde locks, Bobby resting against his bare chest. The heat from outside is winning the battle against the shitty ice box puttering in one of the windows. The Chief's trailer is decrepit, but Randy doesn’t care. Not when he has Bobby pressed against him, lightly tracing the lines of his chest tattoo. 

He feels like he’s choking on adoration. It’s an uncomfortable feeling for him, because he is usually so proficient at shutting these sensations down. But right now, here in this moment, he doesn’t want to. He can’t bear the idea of ruining this bubble he’s in with Bobby. He can feel the man’s heartbeat against his skin, the light brush of eyelashes every time he blinks his eyes open and then closed, like he’s close to sleep. 

The criminal can’t stop the iron gaze he has on Bobby’s deft fingers, tracing ink and then stopping to lightly caress his skin, before starting back up a slow meander around the perfect lines of his artwork. 

Bobby gasps softly when Randy reaches out with sharp reflexes and brings his hand up, kissing each fingertip individually, soft and loving. The older man is looking up at him like he’s everything when the brunette completes his ministrations. Randy’s not sure what happens, but his insides twist and he thinks he might be having a stroke or a heart attack. He thinks maybe he’s dying. 

“I love you.”

The words are whispered into the sticky, heat damp room and it takes a few dozen seconds before Randy realizes they came from him. 

Bobby doesn’t say anything, but he looks like he wants to cry. 

Randy wants to kiss away the emotion. He wants to hold the man close and ask why, who hurt you, can I kill them? He wants to kiss the cop breathless and fuck him into slumber, wants to feel the blonde still clenching around him when his cerulean eyes finally droop closed. He wants all of Bobby. 

So, he does what he does best. 

He runs. 

——

He doesn’t stop running, not until he finds himself upside down on a yacht off the coast of Los Santos. 

He blinks awake, pounding headache only intensified by the blinding sunlight of the morning. He can faintly hear the laughs of his friends somewhere deeper in the boat and takes in the strewn bodies of the random men and women passed out around him on the top deck. He can’t remember the night before. Actually, he can’t remember anything from the last couple of days. The last crystal clear memory he has, is of showing up on Ramee’s doorstep after fleeing Bobby’s embrace, begging his best friend to ignore his puffy, blood shot eyes and give him the distraction of a fucking lifetime. The ache in his body tells him the man succeeded. 

Randy drags himself down into the lower cabins, bypasses his boys who were continuing their quest of staying fucked up through the night. He drops onto the first empty bed he finds, sleep not descending gently onto him, but pile driving him into a deep slumber before he knows what’s happening. 

He wakes to the sound of boots on pavement, running hard. He’s in an alley somewhere downtown, gun in hand pursuing a fleeing body in front of him. They take a sharp turn right, disappearing for a moment before Randy is following right behind. The criminal feels panicked, like if he doesn’t catch this person his entire world will crumble to the ground. His blood feels molten, his mind more determined than he can remember it being in ages. 

But they’re elusive. Their agility is impressive, moving easily through tight spaces and leaping over obstacles. It’s a challenge for Randy, but he’s able to keep the body in his eye line at least seventy percent of the time. He suddenly recognizes the stretch of back streets he’s running through, and is instantly reassured that catching them isn’t a worry; they’re running straight to a dead end. Randy just needs to keep up, just needs to keep up the facade. 

They reach the end of the line, and Randy comes to halt, stands guard at the opening to the blocked off area. The person, the _man_ , slowly loses speed the further into the hopeless alcove they get. Surrounded by tall buildings and no signs of an exit, Randy watches the blonde man’s shoulder drop, his head sagging when he realizes there’s no escape. His gun feels heavy against his sweaty palm, like an anchor holding him down. His chest thumps, the pressure racketing around his sternum and burning his lungs with each roughly drawn breath the brunette takes. 

Bobby turns towards him, face grief stricken and scared. 

Randy doesn’t react, he ignores the sorrow radiating off the man. He raises his gun level at the Chief’s head, moving slowly forward, inching closer to the now trembling man but maintaining at least ten feet between them. Tears fall onto reddened cheeks and Bobby pleads to him with his too blue eyes and a cracked voice,

“ _Randy_.”

His name dripping from the blonde’s lips echo off the walls around them, rattling Randy’s thoughts and making his vision blur for a couple seconds. Shaking his head to try and clear his sight, he scrunches his eyes closed and opens them wide to find Bobby’s head now mere inches from the barrel of his gun. 

It shocks him into almost reeling backwards, but he composes himself while flicking the safety off. His heart constricts as he takes in the minute details of his lover’s features, the hurt etched across his face. His hand drops a few inches, just to see the man better when a familiar voice bellows,

“You know the orders, bro. Make your choice.”

He can hear Ramee and Uchiha’s laughs and murmurs over Chang’s cruel decree. Bobby shakes his head, eyes wide with sadness. He doesn’t know where his crew is, but he can feel their gazes on him, waiting. He lifts his arm, gun targeted on Bobby’s beautiful face once again. There he stood, Randy’s pretty, broken boy; the only person he’s ever really loved. The older man reaches out to touch his wrist gently and draws in a shaky breath before assuring him,

“It’s okay, baby. I love you, too-”

_Bang_. 

Randy jerks awake, heart beating so fast he begins hyperventilating before he pulls himself over the side of his bed and empties the contents of his stomach, vomiting up everything in him he hates until he’s choking. 

The sweet tone of Bobby’s voice confessing his love thumps between his ears, wracking his mind with guilt. He curses the room, the ocean, the world and rolls back over, stares at the ceiling and tries to turn off his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he can just barely pretend his insides aren’t dying. 

——

_6 New Text Messages_

_14 Missed Calls_

_1 New Voicemail_

“I… I don’t know what happened or where you went or why. I just- you don’t have to say anything or do anything. We can pretend that none of what happened that night, happened. Just, please let me know you’re okay. None of my officers have picked you up in days and… I’m worried about you. Even if it’s a text telling me to fuck off and never speak to you again, please. Randy… _please_?”

He listens to the recording from Bobby over and over, punishment for not being strong enough to be the man that he deserves. Punishment for splintering his life in two, complicating everything in the name of love. 

He’s holed up in his apartment, depression settled into every crevice of his home. He hasn’t moved from his couch in several hours, replaying the worry filled message and drafting a new text message he doesn’t send with each listen through:

_im sorry im sorry im sorry i love you i love you i love you_

_why do you keep me around? im the worst. i hate myself_

_fuck off you pathetic, lonely old man. all you ever were was an easy lay._

_i haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment i laid eyes on you outside the pink cage._

_im not good for you, and im definitely not good enough for you. please please, just act like you never met me. i can’t bear to hurt you._

Randy misses Bobby to his core, wants nothing more than to trudge his sorry ass up to Sandy Shores and into the other man’s arms. But he can’t. He knows where this road leads, he knows what the world he’s built for himself would ask him to do for his crime of falling in love with someone he shouldn’t have. His job now is to keep Bobby safe... Well, as safe as you can keep the Chief of Police in this hellscape of a city. And keeping his lover safe means withdrawing completely. He just doesn’t know how he’ll be able to face the man down in the processing cells after being arrested the next time it inevitably happens. Randy doesn’t know how he’ll be able to go through that and not fall to his knees out of misery. 

But, his friends have been hounding him to head up thermite on a Paleto run and he’s running out of excuses for why he can’t be there. 

He knows it’s time to get back to his real life, time to start acting like he gives a fuck about the cars and money that go along with this lifestyle. He just doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t want for the newest imported car or flashy, freshly built mansion in the hills. The thrill of a potential car chase or shootout is gone, replaced with worry that Bobby will show up at the scene and get hurt, or worse. 

It’s all hollow. 

Everything he’s ever wanted is gold plated. 

Except for Bobby. 

He gets the tenth text in a row from a member of Chang Gang, badgering him to meet up for work and loses it. He lets his phone drop from his hand and falls into a tizzy of fraught laughter, like something obvious was right in front of him and he was just now realizing it. His body shakes with tremors from the hysterical fit that’s crashed down on him. 

He looks the picture of insanity, but in reality, Randy is having his first sane and rational thought he’s had in years. 

——

Bobby answers the door to his shitty trailer at half past three in the morning. He’s frustrated, seeing as how sleep doesn’t come half as easily as it had when him and Randy were together. And now he had been woken up by some asshole a mere ninety minutes after he tossed and turned himself to sleep.

He can’t help yanking the door open with a grunted out, _The fuck do ya want?,_ as he rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Just, like, a couple minutes to talk you into an amazing idea.”

And, honestly, it feels good to reel back his fist and punch Randy as hard as he can in the face. The brunette stumbles backwards and falls flat on his ass, hand coming up to cradle his split cheek. He stares up at Bobby with an open, soft expression even as blood starts to drip down his face. 

“You… are a fucking asshole! Fuck off,” Bobby hisses, slamming the rickety door shut and stomping back to his bedroom. He is livid, but he is mostly relieved that Randy isn’t maimed or dead. 

“Yes! You’re right,” Randy’s voice sounds as he follows behind Bobby and stands at the end of the bed the blonde has just thrown himself down on, face first. “I am an asshole, but you wanna know what else I am?”

“A stupid, dick bag!?”

“Maybe… But what I was going to say is, ‘in love with you’. ‘Cause that’s one hundred percent true, hand to fucking god, Bobby. I love you and I’m done with all the bullshit,” Randy confesses, sitting on the edge of the mattress, hand moving out to clasp around Bobby's ankle. 

“I… Okay, that’s good… But, I also don’t know what you’re talking about,” he informs the almost giddy man, rising up on his elbows to turn awkwardly towards his stupid, cute face. 

“Bobby, do you like being Chief of Police. Does it make you happy? Does it fulfill your dreams you once had of protecting the citizens of Los Santos?”

Bobby fixes him with an intense glare, turning over completely and sitting up, “Why?”

“Because. Just answer me, please?” Randy begs, leaning forward to grab one of Bobby’s hands and cradle it against his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything, you know that, right?” he can’t help asking back, even though he doesn’t quite have the vindictive anger needed to actually mean the words. 

“I do. But, I still hope you’ll answer,” he replies, eyes searching the planes of Bobby’s face. 

“Uh, no. I fucking hate my job, it’s soul draining and pointless. Nothing ever changes or improves, I fight everyday to keep misery at bay and I’m always losing. Any dreams I had coming to this city, died long ago. Now, I just dream of making it to my bed,” Bobby admits, shrugging like what he is saying is normal. 

“Okay, good!”

Randy’s cheery response makes the Chief frown. 

“No! I don’t mean like, _good_ , but ‘it’s okay, I have a solution!’ good,” the Brit smiles, bringing Bobby’s hand up to lay three kisses along his palm before continuing, “Let’s leave!”

“What’re you talking about, Randall? Leave where, and why?”

“Let’s just go, just get the fuck out of this cursed ass city. We can go to Las Ventura’s or, I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to visit Vice City! The thing is, I don’t care where. I only care that it’s the two of us,” Randy excitedly spiels, scooting closer to him and cupping his face in both hands, “Staying here… I’m Randy Bullet, second in command of Chang Gang. I’ll never be able to have you, or have a chance at us. But, if we just fucking leave, they can’t do shit.”

Bobby has never seen Randy so genuine in the entirety of knowing him. The man is hyped up and almost buzzing with excitement. But, Bobby is unsure. 

“Randy, you’re talking about giving up your entire life. Like, mine is pretty bleak right now, and as much as I disapprove of your criminal activities, you have a lot more to lose than I do. I really, really want you to think about what you’re proposing,” Bobby says slowly, watching Randy’s face go from elation to more reserved happiness. 

“I’m not giving up shit. I don’t want any of that, not when it means I can’t have you. You just… don't get it,” the brunette pulls back his hands and deposits them in his own lap, a sullen curtain seeming to fall over him as he reveals more to Bobby, “They… I’m not allowed certain kinds of happiness because it could interfere with my obligations. Love and a relationship are two of the big ones, because they aren’t Chang Gang revolving. The last time I tried to date someone, they made me shoot her, point blank, on the top of Mount Chiliad. I… I’m done chopping my life up to make them happy.”

Bobby can’t help the outraged gasp at that confession, he can’t stop himself climbing into Randy’s lap and curling around the trembling man. The Brit pulls him in and wraps his strong arms around Bobby. They sit there for a couple long minutes, reintroducing themselves to the others embrace, until Bobby lifts his head up and asks,

“Did you kill her?”

“No,” Randy admits, hands bunching up in the back of Bobby’s thin sleep shirt, like he’s steeling himself to continue speaking, “I… waited until they left and took her into Paleto. I faked an accident and waited for EMS to show up. I made sure she was okay, but… that doesn’t mean much when I was the one who pulled the trigger. They tried to make me put her down, in a pretty humane way when you consider the source. But you, Bobby? I can’t even imagine how they would try to make me hurt you.”

Bobby, ever the emotional reprieve for the criminal, lovingly strokes his face through his talking. It’s not hard for him to understand Randy’s pain and turmoil with the way it’s etched on his face. He smiles sweetly in opposition to Randy’s troubled expression,

“You wouldn’t hurt me. You love me, Randall Bullet.”

“I do. And I wouldn’t. They’d have to kill me.”

“I love you too, by the way,” Bobby intones sheepishly, “You kinda ran out before I could say it back.”

“I know you do. You’re like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, stupid easy to read,” Randy laughs, pushing his forehead against the blonde’s, “So… Will you leave with me?”

“What, tonight?”

“Yeah. Just pick a place and I’ll get us the plane tickets, I even have a bag packed. I cashed out or sold anything of worth. Babe, I have so much money. Holy fuck, do we not have to worry about money. I meant it when I said _anywhere_ you wanna go. Just, I don’t want to wait. I’m done with this city, with these people. You’re it. You’re all I want.”

“And no more crime? I’m not picking up my life, and throwing out a career, to move some place where you’ll be in and out of jail all the fucking time. I got sick of it here.”

“Fucking so done! I can like,” Randy faux-shudders violently when he says, “get a job or something.”

“Man, would I pay money to see you behind a desk at a nine to five. You wouldn’t last a week,” Bobby laughs, pulling away from his lover and moving around the room to grab various items before throwing them in a heap in the middle of his bed. Randy sees a suitcase hanging out of the closet, and grabs it, starting to pack the things Bobby was flinging around into it. 

It takes only a handful of minutes for Bobby to do a few sweeps around his trailer and be satisfied with what he’s packed. Randy stands back and watches Bobby fret around, dopey smile a permanent fixture on his face. When Bobby finally stops and just swivels his head back and forth in a final once over of his belongings, Randy takes the opportunity to come up behind him and wrap his arms around the smaller man, placing a soft kiss on the juncture between his shoulder and neck, asking,

“All good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Where’re we headed?”

“Vice City sounds fun. I like beaches.”

“Yeah? Me too,” Randy agreed, taking Bobby’s hand and leading him out of the trailer that in a few days would be a distant memory of their old life. Bobby begins rambling about Cuban food and the chances of hurricanes being exaggerated as they climb into his GTR for the last time. Bobby looks at him with adoration as he continues speaking, filling Randy’s chest with warmth. 

From here on out, he knows it will be easy. 

* * *

**My Clique Should be Cancelled** ,

or 

_How Randy turned Bobby into a criminal and, in doing so, Bobby set Randy free._

Randy knows it’s mostly his fault that Bobby is who he is now. 

Not that he knew a whole hell of a lot about the man before he stepped foot in Los Santos. 

He knew his twin sister was killed when they were teenagers, that Bobby had tried to be a professional football player at one point and that the man wanted to be a cop when he first showed up in town. It’s a funny thought really, the most versatile and possibly valuable criminal in Los Santos wanting to be a cop. 

(Randy thinks he would have been superb, probably would have ended up Chief. Bobby succeeds at anything he puts his mind to.)

He vividly remembers pulling up to the Pink Cage apartments a year or so ago, the stunning blonde leaning against the stucco of the aging building, hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn denim jacket. Randy remembers the way his stomach dropped when Bobby’s bright smile was directed at him for the first time, after offering the man a cigarette. Everything about that moment is burned into his mind; a beginning. 

It was surprisingly easy to talk the obviously troubled man out of going down to MRPD to inquire about the upcoming police academy. His charm is renowned in this city and Bobby wasn’t exempt. Bobby wanted to be a cop, but he wanted to be valued more. That was easy for Randy to do, because Bobby’s a goddamn treasure, and back at the start he was a shiny little diamond in the rough. 

And Randy fucking loves diamonds. 

It was easy to show him the decrepit truth to the city; the cops have no power and the criminals always win, in one way or another. It’s easy to bring him to Chang Gang, introduce the man to his partners and show Bobby what he could have. Money, cars, drugs, power; all were free flowing when you make the right connections and right moves. He remembers the look of awe on Bobby’s face when even the local cops treated Randy with respect. He knew he had his hooks in the older man then, knew he could mold Bobby into something special. 

The most important step when turning a law abiding citizen into a criminal is finding out what drives them, what makes that person get up in the morning, what is their underlying motivation to keep living day to day in the unfair hellscape that is this world. It only took a week of observation and subtle dissection, but Randy figured it out, he figured out what makes Bobby tick. 

Bobby wanted power, but not in the usual ways every other criminal wants power. The blonde wanted the power to navigate the world around him and stop what he deemed to be unfair, he wanted a “family” of like minded people who wanted the same. It’s why being a cop made so much sense to the Texan at first, until Randy opened his eyes to how held back he would always be and how little family actually meant to the staunch government employees that run around aimlessly, killing the citizens they had sworn to protect. 

Once Randy discovered that, everything else came easy. 

Bobby was deadly with a gun, even more so after Randy starts personally training him. His thermite and hacking skills were kind of mind blowing, given that he didn’t even know what thermite was during their first few jobs. His driving had been bleak, but Randy had devoted hours to teaching him and even hired Tony Corleone to coach the man in the art of getaways. He didn’t like the idea of his protege failing in any category, he always gave Bobby every opportunity to be the best. 

And Bobby took each one like a sacred gift, pushing himself harder and harder with each passing day, each successful job. Randy’s big enough to admit he was proud, even a little jealous the day Chang offhandedly mentioned they could take Bobby on a job instead of him and be fine. It was true though, Bobby was shaping up nicely, he was outranking most other criminals in the city with his technical skills alone. 

But that’s not what made Bobby special. Any asshole with enough time and money can become proficient. If you wanted to make it in this city, you needed something else, something that set you apart. 

Bobby’s special because you walk away trusting him. It didn’t matter the situation, or the person, but you always left Bobby’s presence trusting the man, even if you don’t like him. Because Bobby doesn’t lie, he tells you exactly what he wants and you end up either helping him get it or getting the fuck out his way. Bobby walks into a room and people turn to look, out of respect (and indulgence, Bobby has always been a sight for sore eyes). 

Bobby is alluring in that way, but also in the way he takes care of the people around him. If he considers you a friend, you get more than your share of the heist money. If he likes you, you can ask him for just about anything and he’ll make sure you have it. Bobby is Los Santos' big brother, he’s got your back as long as you aren’t a total shit head. He’s big on adhering to the loyalties that have shaped a person. Bobby will absolutely pick a side if a gang war starts, and it’s always the side that has stayed true to their word and been fucked over by their own people or by an alliance. 

“You don’t fuck over your allies.”

Randy remembers those words slipping out of Bobby’s mouth the last time it happened, the last time he joined a war out of moral obligation. Bobby was gearing up to head over and back the Russian’s, who had been fucked over by their current allies, the Leanbois, during a coke deal. That one statement truly summed up who Bobby is as a person. He could not, would not, sit back and let a “family” get taken advantage of. Not in his city, he couldn’t stand for it. 

Randy didn’t understand that part of the blonde at the time, didn’t get his devotion to fairness and broad spanning loyalty. 

Randy protected his boys and that was the end of it. 

——

He couldn’t imagine doing what Bobby was about to do. He sat on the dusty duvet of the blonde’s motel bed, trying desperately to convince the man not to do this, to not go through with it. 

“But the Leanbois are our allies right now, _we_ work with them all the time,” he pleaded, watching Bobby clean his stolen PD AR, preparing for battle. 

“No, _you_ work with the Leanbois. I work with me, Randy. I’m not Chang Gang,” Bobby replied, not looking up from his task. 

“Yeah and why’s that? It’s not like you couldn’t work with us, be one of us. Chang wasn’t joking all those months ago when he offered you the position,” Randy hissed, at his wits end about Bobby running off to fight a war that isn’t his. 

“I know. And I don’t care. I’m not- Chang and your boys, as much as I love working with them, they aren’t the family I’m trying to build for myself. Okay? It’s not… what I want,” the Texan relented, pausing his task to look up at his mentor, eyes soft. 

“I’m not what you want, huh?”

“I didn’t say that! I just… have to do this. You know who I am and you know why I have to involve myself in this... Randy, look, you’re my best friend, you taught me everything I know and my loyalties will always lie with you first, okay?”

“How can that be, Bobby, when I _am_ Chang Gang?!”

“No! No, _you_ are not Chang Gang. _Chang_ is Chang Gang and you are his driver and shooter and thermite guy. I will always have your back, but your boys… Well, your boys don’t have the same privilege, I’m sorry. Please Randy, please try to understand?” 

Randy didn’t want to understand in that moment, cussing Bobby’s mother and stomping out the door. He didn’t want to understand the brimming need to fight for what’s right (or whatever the definition of ‘right’ is in the mind of a criminal). He stormed off livid and scared, knowing he couldn’t support his protege in this moment, even though every instinct in him said to follow Bobby, have his back, protect him. If he did that though, he would be betraying Chang Gang. 

Bobby had long ago decided against swearing his allegiance to a gang in Los Santos, not really liking his options. He had fought for many, been hired by a few and was liked by almost all of them. Several of the bigger gangs had even tried to court him into their ranks a couple months ago, Chang Gang included. Bobby had made it clear he is here for Los Santos, not to join something already existing and cower behind a leader he didn’t believe in. If he wanted that, he would have become a cop. It was hard to not respect Bobby, the wild card who was only out here to help the (criminal) underdog.

But now it seemed that decision was coming to bite Randy in the ass. Bobby openly aiding the Russian’s in this war meant shit was going to hit the fan. Randy knew this, knew how the boys would take this whole situation. It doesn’t look good, Randy Bullet’s protege siding with the enemy of Chang Gang’s closest ally. Randy knows Bobby isn’t trying to fuck them over, but that’s not what matters. 

What matters is the appearance of the decision, which is vapid and superficial. 

What matters, apparently, is Bobby not siding with Randy’s crew’s acquaintances…

——

“... which is fucking stupid!,” Randy spat, scrubbing the blood from his chin and dodging another hit, this one coming from Vinny. 

Chang Gang, his brothers in arms, have him surrounded, beating the British man down for his supposed betrayal. The Russian’s had all but won their war over the course of a few weeks. He hadn’t seen Bobby at all in that time, trying to show his loyalty to his crew, but they had been standoffish and snippy, all of them waiting to see what would happen. When the fog cleared, it was Randy who had to pay the price. 

“What’s stupid is your little vanity project fucking us over, Bullet! You created a fucking machine and now it’s being used against us!” Ramee had screamed, rounding a kick to the back of his knees, making him fall to the ground. 

“He hasn’t done a single thing to hurt us!” Randy bellowed, trying to brace himself for the kick coming towards his stomach from Vinny and failing. It knocks him to his side, leaving him gasping for air. 

“Not siding with our allies does hurt us, Randall. You know that,” Chang finally intones, trying to sound genuinely disappointed, but mostly coming off patronizing, “It’s time you make a decision. Us or Bobby.”

Bleeding out on the asphalt with broken ribs and a concussion at the hands of his most trusted friends will really bring light to a situation. Randy wants to cry as he hears Taco’s and Ramee’s vicious little laughs at the ultimatum, wants to pretend his decisions in life haven’t led him here. Randy had always thought these men were his family, that no matter how big his fuck up, they’d have his back. But here he is, beat bloody because a man he has no control over made a decision that didn’t affect his crew at all. 

This is where he starts to really understand Bobby’s perspective, he starts to get Bobby’s moral compass. He wishes the blonde was here to help him and tell him it’s okay to feel like he’s fucked up every aspect of his life. But he’s not here, he’s out there living his life based on his own decisions, not the decisions a crew makes for him. Randy knows what he has to do. 

“Of course I choose us, Chang,” he relents, the blows ceasing at last. He looks up towards his leader, defeated, “What do you want me to do?”

He’s surprised they didn’t want him to kill Bobby, just render him so badly injured he ends up in the ICU. Chang wants the entire city to know what happens when you fuck with his crew, wants the city to see their criminal golden boy have his wings clipped. And he wants Randy publicly holding the scissors when it’s all said and done. It’s fucked up, and Randy drives off from his punishment at the hands of his crew, sure of one thing; Bobby would never suffer because of him. 

It was easy for Randy to go to Bobby, let the man take care of him and soothe his aches that went deeper than any broken bone could. It’s easy to cry, sobbing openly without words at first as Bobby bandages him up. He tells Bobby everything, about the lack of trust that’s been brewing since the war started, the ultimatum he was given and what Chang wants him to do. It’s also easy to tell Bobby the truth about his decision,

“I won’t do it, I can’t. They… they fucking turned on me so easily-” he’s choking out, Bobby cradling his face in his dingy bathroom after first aid is done. He’s unable to listen to his mentor be so forthright in his sorrow, cutting him off,

“Because they don’t care about you. They care about what you can offer them and when it’s not enough, you’re just another mark, another obstacle in the way of what they want,” the blonde spat, anger free flowing, “This is why I won’t join something like that. Do you see? They aren’t your family.”

And Bobby doesn’t have to say it for Randy to know the truth; Bobby is his family, Bobby is the one here fixing him and trying to make him whole after Randy had abandoned him for a month because he made a decision for himself. Bobby is loyalty incarnate and Randy would be daft to not side with him now. 

——

So he does. 

He chooses Bobby and sends the entire city into chaos. It’s not a light decision, being second in command in Chang Gang makes his departure messy. They know a war is coming and even though they are both god-like with a gun, the two of them against Chang Gang and all their allies won’t end in their favor. So, Bobby offers to call in every favor he has; the Bondi Boys owe him for helping them secure an explosives connect, the Azteca’s offer men and guns because Bobby helped get them off on a slew of charges with some falsified testimony, and Prune Gang just like Bobby and are always up for a civil war within Chang Gang. 

He tells Randy he can get them all of this, under the condition that Randy takes the reins as the leader. And that after they win, Randy sits as the head of the new crew they’re going to build. It confuses the criminal vet, because why would Bobby cash in all his connections only to give him all the control?

“Because, you paved the path for every single one of them, Randy. I wouldn’t be where I am without you, and I know first hand the kind of leader you can be when you’re given the opportunity. So, shut the fuck up and let me give you the opportunity,” Bobby had said with a smile, the two of them bent over his shitty motel room table, planning how to handle the upcoming war. It hits Randy in the weirdest place, unable to concentrate on the minute details of the mess he’d created for himself when he has his biggest supporter there, waxing about how competent and wonderful he is. 

He remembers this night pretty vividly too, another beginning. 

He pulls the blonde away from the papers they’ve been staring at for hours, invades his space and pushes him up against the wall, making them meet hip to hip, when he starts, “You gonna give me any other opportunities, Bobby?”

Bobby, the hardened criminal with a moral code, has the audacity to look bashful, head turning down to avoid Randy’s signature burning gaze. It’s so innocent, juxtaposing everything Randy knows about the man. He can’t help pulling his head back by the hair and making blues eyes peer into his. 

“C’mon. Show me.”

The command is all it takes for Bobby to push up and kiss softly at Randy’s chapped lips, like they’re teenagers at prom. Randy’s watched Bobby kill a man for fucking over his drug deal and he doesn’t quite know how to handle the duality of the man. He lets Bobby lick into his mouth timidly before he pulls back, assessing the blonde with a discerning glare. 

“What?” Bobby asks, looking nervous and small for the first time since Randy’s introduced him to this world, “Randy, what’re-”

“You’re too fucking much. Holy shit, what am I going to do with you?” Randy’s able to grit out before diving in to completely devour the man, pulling him into a bruising kiss, hands going to lift the man to his height under his pert, jean covered ass. The sweet moans he pulls from the shorter man go straight to his cock, loving how seamlessly Bobby wraps around him at the first show of Randy taking over the situation. 

That’s Bobby’s favorite aspect of his mentor, how easily he falls into the role of leader, controlling the chaos around him. 

Randy ends up fucking Bobby on the rickety table over a map of Chang Gang held territories, forever changing the dynamic between the two men. It’s the best sex he’s ever had, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the thrill of the nearing fight or the fact that Bobby turns into the most submissive being Randy’s ever had the opportunity to take apart. Bobby shows his neck and spreads his legs like it’s what he’s born to do. And it’s not like Randy isn’t proud of the man he’s helped Bobby become, but he starts to wonder if he missed the older man’s true potential as Bobby licks the come off his now flaccid cock, moaning like he’s slurping up sugar. 

“You’re such a good boy, my good boy, huh? God fuckin’ damn it, Bobby,” Randy can’t help groaning when he has to gently push him away as the touch becomes too much. Bobby climbs onto the bed they’d transitioned to and into the man’s lap, snuggling into his neck when he replies off topically,

“You wanna know something? Wanna know why I’d give you everything?” he asks, waiting for Randy to nod before continuing, “Because you’ve been there for me from the beginning, and you’ve never asked me to choose a side. Not like they made you choose. You let me grow and become what I needed, not what you needed.”

Randy wrapped his arms around him, squeezing the fair skinned man tight, like he might slip through his hold if he didn't. He cherishes Bobby, more deeply than he realized before tonight. He’d burn each member of his old crew to the ground to protect this man... actually, he now plans to. Because how fucking dare they try to take Bobby away from him? How could they possibly think hurting Bobby would ever be in his game plan? 

How could he, Randy _fucking_ Bullet, even think about siding with a disingenuous group of assholes over the entirely loyal man who’s giving him the collective whole of his life’s work to start up a crew of his own? 

Randy shakes those thoughts away and kisses the top of Bobby’s head, breathing in his scent and resigning himself to the tough days ahead of them. 

——

Randy wins. 

Of course he does. 

He stands in a derelict warehouse in the south side, Bobby to his right (and in a surprising turn of events), Curtis and Flippy to his left. He’s offering his terms to Chang to put the whole thing to bed. Everybody seems more than happy to move this along with as little animosity as possible (because that’s how a level headed criminal acts when they lose a war: with fucking dignity). 

Except for Chang, who keeps giving these long winded speeches about Randy going soft for some pussy and losing any street cred he built with his former gang. It’s all bullshit, Randy knows that. He knows the way the city has been talking about the Bullet Club, the only gang to be as heavily loaded as them in their four man team alone. That’s not even mentioning the slight awe factor Randy now had from the underbelly of Los Santos for bagging Bobby as his second in command. The taunting does very little to stir a reaction out of him, but he can feel Bobby bristling at his side. He can tell the other gang leader’s rambling was grating on his boyfriend. 

“Fine, Chang. We all agree to terms. Are we done here?” Randy relents, wanting this to finally be over with and get Bobby out of here before he says or does something that could spark an undesired reaction. He keeps side eyeing the blonde, who’s staring daggers into Chang exclusively. 

“Yeah, whatever. Wouldn’t want to keep the traitor from his wifey,” the old man scoffs, turning his back to them and starting an immediate slew of shit talking Randy to his boys. 

He was right to want Bobby out of this situation, because as he turns to retreat from the warehouse the fair skinned man’s arm raises suddenly, pistol pointed at the back of Chang’s head as he steps forward. The room becomes silent, the rest of his former crew going wide eyed, cluing in Chang to what must be happening behind him. Randy knows his face must read shock and horror, because there’s nothing he can do to stop this. Bobby could get himself killed right now. 

He reaches a hand out tentatively towards the blonde, who doesn’t react beyond meeting his eyes for a brief second before returning his hard gaze at Chang. 

“What’re you doing, Bob?” Chang asks, slowly turning back around to face the barrel of his gun. 

“What you’re not going to do is stand here and accuse _Randy_ of being the traitor in this. Not after forcing him to choose between you and his family, not after beating him half to death and sending him to _disable_ me,” Bobby spits, finger sliding the safety of his gun off as he speaks, “What we’re not going to do, _Chang_ , is confuse the definition of traitor or pretend like you didn’t fuck him over first.”

Randy doesn’t know how to handle this. He doesn’t know what to say. If Bobby kills Chang, it will be a war bigger than he thinks he can handle. At least right now, not having had any time to properly grow his own newly formed gang. But, he gets this reaction, he understands why Bobby’s doing this. He can’t say he wouldn’t do the same for the older man at this point. 

“What do you want me to do, apologize?” Chang laughs, looking back to his boys for validation, but only receives blank, scared expressions. They know Bobby, they’ve worked with him before. At this range, with nobody else even having a hand on their gun, Bobby could lay their boss out flat before any of them could even begin to fire back. This was a dire situation, they were all standing in a powder keg. 

“Yes,” Bobby answers simply, and Randy can see his trigger finger tighten. It makes him smile because he knows what Bobby really wants; he wants Chang to refuse so he can put a bullet in between the other leader’s eyes. He knows his boyfriend will never forgive his old boss for his betrayal. 

But, Bobby’s smart. He’ll take the apology even if he isn’t happy about it. 

Chang stands there scoffing for a couple seconds, trying to buy time or stall until he sees that Bobby isn’t backing down. He growls and throws his hands up, anger lacing his voice when he shouts, “Fine! I’m so sorry, Randall. There! Ya happy, you freak?!”

Bobby takes a beat before lowering his gun. He doesn’t give the man the respect of a reply or head nod before he’s turning on his heel and making a calm beeline towards the exit. Randy can’t help watching Bobby’s march out and then swiveling his head back to his old crew, giving them eyes that hopefully convey “ _That’s right boys, Bobby is the biggest badass in this room and he’s all mine._ ”

——

“That was _so_ fucking stupid, Bobby! What the _fuck_?!” Randy can’t help laughing as they speed out of the south side, Bobby behind the wheel of his brand new Camaro (a _thank you for winning me a war_ gift from Randy). Bobby doesn’t look nearly as amused as he shrugs nonchalantly, not giving any type of verbal response. 

Randy looks adoringly over his profile, taking in every faded freckle, every beginning of a wrinkle line. He knows he must be smiling like the giant dork he actually is, but he can’t help it, doesn’t want to stop it. They pull up to a street light and Randy reaches out to grasp Bobby’s face, making him turn. The sour look on the blonde’s face fades when he looks over Randy, lips quirked up the smallest amounts at the edges. 

“What?” His boyfriend asks gruffly, slightly rubbing his face back and forth in Randy’s big palm. 

“I love you,” Randy admits, never more sure about the words coming out of his mouth in his entire goddamn life. 

“Yeah, you better,” Bobby chuckles, flushing red and going to pull away. Randy doesn’t let him. He leans over the gearshift and kisses Bobby before he knows what’s happening. Reeling at the plush feel of his full lips, the Brit tries to commit the pliant nature of Bobby’s natural submission to memory. The easy way his boyfriend bends to where he moves him, the compliance that flows through Bobby so freely that Randy thinks he could physically lap it up if he tried. Even as cars blast their horns and swerve around them, Bobby doesn’t falter in participating in Randy’s ill timed, albeit wonderfully sweet, make out session. The brunette finally pulls back, although not very far, to murmur,

“You love me too?”

“Yeah… I love you too,” Bobby whispers against his mouth, lightly grazing his lips back and forth over Randy’s, making the younger man’s stomach flip and flutter and his face blossom with warmth. 

“...Good. ‘Cause this Camaro cost an arm and leg, I swear.”

Bobby pulls back to grin at him before sticking his tongue out and peeling off down the street. Randy giggles and leans back in his seat, content in wherever the older man is leading him. It’s quite a change of personality for him though, dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars on a car for his boyfriend without blinking an eye. But a lot has changed in him since he met the man. 

And he knows it’s entirely Bobby’s fault that Randy is who he is now. 

* * *


End file.
